


Stringent Line

by countingyourfingers



Category: Twisted-Wonderland (Video Game)
Genre: (that they both are trying to curb), Gen, M/M, Power Imbalance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-30
Updated: 2020-07-30
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:02:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25605520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/countingyourfingers/pseuds/countingyourfingers
Summary: Jamil intends to poison-test, Kalim stops him, and not all changes are permanent.
Relationships: vague hints of Jamikari
Comments: 2
Kudos: 80





	Stringent Line

**Author's Note:**

> Done with minimal beta and is admittedly quite messy. I had a potent case of Jamikari Brain Syndrome and wrote this in 1 night. Love these kids.

“Jamil, you don’t have to poison-test my food anymore.”

A short huff in response. The silver spoon paused its journey to the edge of white teeth. 

“You, and your tendency to put foot in your mouth.” What followed soon was a pathetic, broken piece of a cackle, as if Jamil’s diaphragm is forcing him to push out the rebellion. Jamil’s best virtue is his pride, and he has always tried to follow up on every promise, every invective he has made to Kalim. To continue this charade of a relationship, when he learns the hard way that Kalim is anything but irresolute once he sets his sight on what he wants.

_“Stop trying to be my friend.” Jamil stated one day, when Kalim joined him in his previously empty lunch table- the result of his scandal being broadcasted for the entire student body._

_“You don’t have the rights to order me,” Kalim gritted out in a voice harsher than his mind intended, to salve the ache in his eyes. He immediately regretted the display when he saw Jamil freeze up._

_They stopped having lunch together after._

Yet, Kalim donned a smile, pretended to veil them both in innocence. His teeth grinded against each other like rusted gears, trying to operate machinations too ingrained, too complex for his incapable hands to grasp hold of.

“Isn’t it, like, needed for me to be able to detect trace poison by themselves, just in case of assassinations? I can’t just rely on you forever!” 

“Well, not really. There are always meatshields like us for that purpose. Why would you want to put yourself through unnecessary risks?” Jamil must have noticed something on his face, because he gave him that _look_ which Kalim hates seeing so often these days. The look which veils many stifled words, which reminds Kalim he still holds a frayed leash. Despite all of their bravado, all of Jamil’s talents and the wilfulness befitting leadership, they are too young to make a fruitful move outside of this small bubble. 

“....Anyways, all I’m saying is, it’s not smart to worry your parents.” 

‘But...what about yours?’ Kalim wanted to ask, but the words remained unspoken.

_He remembered how he was the first one to visit Jamil after he spat out phlegm from curry, as all of their servants were busy washing piles of dishes after the feast. How Jamil’s mother had turned her son’s cheeks away from him with a breakneck speed, so that blood would not stain Kalim’s robe._

_“Why are you crying, dear?” his father said, voice nonchalant as he cut into his steak perfused with so much red. Kalim would vomit if not for the dozens of delegates pointing their razor-sharp gazes at him, aimed at the knife block slitted from his weakness. “A servant’s greatest honor is to protect his charge’s life.”_

_It’s a lesson he never wanted to learn._

But Jamil’s spoon had not moved closer to his tongue, because things _have_ changed, haven’t they, even if it’s so easy to lie to himself that they are not. He wanted to believe they are more than just gears in a cog. Jamil is amazing at many tasks, but he’s horrible with optimism, so it’s up to Kalim, the cotton-brained fool, to keep enough faith for the both of them. 

So, Kalim grasped Jamil’s hand, cradled it like it was composed of hollow wishbones between his fingers, a contrast between smooth skin and rough calluses. He closed his eyes shut, did not dare to open them when he felt Jamil’s gaze pierced his skin, so sharp to draw blood. It was a greediness, an impropriety so befits a ruler, his father would guffaw with pride at the sight. 

“No one here would want to poison me.” It's a horrible lie, but Kalim will say anything, even the most ridiculous nonsense, just to stop this pain in his chest.

Jamil lifted his dark eyes, his view of vision shifted upward as if Kalim was beneath him, a sage wiping the floor with a foolish brat in macala. Jamil shifted their entwined fingers to press on Kalim’s neck, face splitted into a half-smile. 

It is the most beautiful sight Kalim has ever seen, incomparable to any treasure. 

He shuddered, his Adam’s apple bobbled under Jamil’s thumb as the other’s face leaned closer to his ears, as Jamil’s words coiled over the shell of his skin like smoke. 

“Even if _I_ was in charge of the food? Even if _I_ had betrayed you once before?” 

“...You would not betray me without any reason.” It is a truth Kalim feels engraved in his memory of Jamil spooning him gulps of antidotes, of Jamil’s warm hand eclipsing his own when Kalim cried over the cruelty in growing up. It’s a trump card tucked away in his heart to prolong the match, even after he has been bluffed so many times until there’s no other move but to check with a bleeding heart.

Suddenly, he felt the soup being forced into the gap of his teeth, liquid trailed down his chin as the sound of metal oscillates through the air after clashing with china. Swift movement followed. He could only see Jamil’s legs now, and Kalim tried to crane his head up, up, but their eyes never met. 

“How is it?”

“Delicious.” 


End file.
